Fonzarichie
by The Laziest Woman on Mars
Summary: It is a love that cannot be denied, but can a cool cat like the Fonz ever let himself be taken in by the imprisoning embrace of true love?


WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG

I do not own Happy Days, and I'm pretty sure Ron Howard and Henry Winkler are going to send a hitman for me.

Fonzarichie…

He'd never really seen it dark. Funny, since he'd been in and out of the place since he was…what was it, fourteen? God how time could pass, when you got caught up in things. The lights of passing cards made the windows glitter, like something more otherworldly than a two-star diner in the middle of nowhere. Richie thought about all this as he sat perched on the edge of a hard plastic table, the hard edge cutting into his thighs. Probably an hour since he'd last moved, but at least the pain was something to hold onto. Something to make him believe that everything happening was real, was pure.

No, thank God no, it wasn't a dream.

But it was still dark, and the darkness bred fear. In that fear he imagined he was waiting for nothing, that everything he'd coveted for oh-so-long would never come. His heart clenched tightly when he heard the scraping of boots on the kitchen floor, a chair hastily pushed to the side as the one he waited for came at last to his side.

They were bathed in light as the door opened, their eyes meeting at long last with rapture flashing hot between them even brighter than the fluorescent light above.

"Ehhhyy…"

They flew together, hands gripping flesh as tightly as could be done in the darkness. Their mouths met, violently tasting the fruit that had until then been forbidden. Richie reached for the leather jacket that hid the firm muscles he longed to caress, and was admonished for his efforts. A faint wimper died away in the shadows as Fonzie ripped away his shirt. His pale, untoned flesh fairly glowed. He ran his hand down Richie's soft skin, stopping at the limit where denim forbade he go.

Should he obey what society told him? Should he stop then and forget his desire, remember that it was the 50s and such things just weren't done?

Shit no, he was the Fonz, he didn't listen to societies rules and, besides…little Fonz was aching for some action.

The denim came off easily, and after that there was little to impede the Fonz as he progressed downward, caressing with touch, and tongue, and every other appendage the adolescent curves of young Cunningham's naked form.

Moaning in the darkness, Richie understand suddenly that all those years he'd spent over ice creams and at the drive-in, trapped at a family table for dinner or down at the high school at the hop, in all those years he'd never really lived, never really come alive until that glorious moment when Fonzie had taken him into his office and stripped away his inhibitions.

So this was what it meant to be alive.

Fonzie pulled him from the table, turned him around.

Ziiip! The sound shuddered through the shadows, and Richie with it. The Jukebox blared to life with beautiful chaos of sound and color, but they hardly noticed it as Fonzie and Richie at long and tremulous last were joined.

Night faded, the morning light streamed over their faces in the abandoned diner. Fonzie sat, staring down at his hands. Richie couldn't place the feeling that came over him but it somehow seemed that his world, that beautiful world he'd only just begun to live in, was coming to jarring halt.

"What…what is it?" he asked.

Fonzie looked up at him. "Rich," he mumbled, "I dunno how to say this but this thing…what we did…I mean, WHOAaaaa…"

His heart began to beat again when Fonzie took his hand. "I have to go, work in the shop or whatever. You keep cool, man, and save a space for me at dinner? Eeeeehhhh…"

Richie smiled. Of course, he thought to himself, anything for you.

Days passed, weeks, months of pure and carnal bliss. Everybody noticed the different in Richie, the sly smile that he suddenly had on his face every time he found himself down at the diner, the flush of pink that came over his cheek when he saw a man on a motorcycle. Nobody seemed to notice his increased visits to Fonzie's office, even when he was supposed to be out on a date with Laurie.

But then the music stopped. Richie found himself standing at the door to Fonzie's office, watching Potsy as he blushed beet red and stumbled outside. The jukebox was blaring wildly, and the Fonz was casually zipping up his fly as he looked up at Richie.

"How, how could—"

"Hey kid, we never said it was exclusive, right? Whoaaa…" Fonzie turned to the mirror to comb his hair. "I've been thinking, and maybe the Fonz isn't so much a one on one sorta guy. So this is the thing, I was thinking maybe I was wr—"

"You were…what?"

"Wro…wr…….wroooo…"

"Wrong?"

Fonzie shuddered, holding out his arms to stabilize himself. "Yeah, whatever. Maybe I was to get you into this thing. I mean, you're my bud and everything, but I'm not so into you like that."

Richie felt his heart fall. "I…I thought…"

The Fonz turned, and all at once Richie saw everything in his eyes that he couldn't say. The fear, the worry, and above all the love that a cool cat greaser like him just didn't know how to deal with. "Yeah, Fonz, yeah," he said, choking it all back.

He knew then what he would have to do. He would have to wait, to hope, because some day the time would come when the greasers would fall and a new era would arise. An era of love shared rather than love denied, when the former greaser would throw away his leather jacket and don instead a suede jacket, a sexy brown one, with a little bit of fringe on it. Yes, that time would come and Richie would dedicate himself to waiting, all for the sake of the man that he knew he would always love. Until then he would wait.

Richie began to turn to the door. He stopped when he heard that familiar scraping, boot on floor. Fonzie cradled him, every inch of his back molded to that familiar form. A single tear ran down Richie's cheek, and clutching his hand tightly Richie whispered.

"Fonzie? Would you do it for me? One last time?"

A momentary pause, the sound of two heartbeats becoming one.

Then a solemn, "EEeeehhhyyyy…" echoed into the night.


End file.
